The Mercenary
by Northmen
Summary: Darus Astevus was once the leader of the Swordsworn one of the most succesful mercenary bands to roam the Eastern Kingdoms. After a great tragedy strikes he abandons his fellows silently vowing never to return. Fate however has other plans...
1. Chapter 1

**Day One**

**I do not own Warcraft**

* * *

It was in the middle of a dazzlingly sunset and a beautiful evening dusk when the man arrived at the pass. His brown stallion whined in exhaustion, his iron horseshoes clipping slowly up the stone pebble streets.

"We're almost there boy," said the man bracingly, patting the horse on the head.

The horse rolled his eyes at him and snorted in reply.

Several moments later the building appeared, a lone black tower sitting on a hill of green. The sun had nearly finished its glorious descent and the towers shadow was long against the trees.

"Kharazhan," he muttered darkly, "That wizard better pay good."

The land steepened and the horse whined again but the man ignored him.

Finally they arrived at the door. Swinging off his horse he touched lightly on the ground his black and blue cloak falling down around him. His grey eyes were hard as he approached and knocked on the door.

The door swung open as if on cue and a brown disheveled man stepped out. His robes were brown and dirty, his glasses round and thick. He had a great white beard that hung past his chest.

"Hello?" he asked squinting.

"It's me."

"Who?"

"The man you hired."

"I hire lots of people; you can't expect me to remember them all!"

"I'm Darus Astevus," he said with annoyed tone, "You hired me to-"

"To reclaim the Gem of Mendivh!" finished the tower dweller excitedly. He looked at him with a sudden cunning awareness.

"Do you have it?"

Darus undid a pouch on his leather belt, and grasped it with a gauntleted hand. Almost as considering something he hesitated for a moment before, tossing it over to the man. The old wizards claw like had shot out like a viper catching it before it fell.

"Of course I do."

The man looked into the pouch and smiled. He dug into deep robe pockets and drew forth a handful of coins. They glittered in the dying sunlight. Most shined silver but Darus noted the occasional gold shine with an appreciative growl. Taking the coins into his hand he quickly redistributed into one of his own pockets. He then dipped slightly in a bow.

"Pleasure doing business with you."

He turned to leave when the man asked, "I hope the gem's original owner didn't give you too much trouble."

Darus held back a grimace, "She chose to fight back. She is dead now."

He glanced back to see the old man nodding gravely, "Pity."

Then the wizard closed the door and Markus was alone with his horse.

"Let's go Daunter," he whispered after a moment, leading the horse by the reigns as he walked down the path to Darkshire.

_**--**_

Several hours later found Darus sitting at the bar of a small inn on the outskirts of town known as the Hanged Man's Luck, his horse Daunter snug and fed in the innkeepers stable.

He sat drinking his sad excuse for a beer an expectant look on his face, almost as if he was waiting for something. It better not be much longer, he thought. He fully intended to getting raving drunk tonight. Suddenly a single agonized scream ripped through the air carried on a heavy wind. Nearly all residents of the room froze in terror. Darus grinned widely.

"That sounds like it came from Kharazhan," murmured one man softly.

"The scream of a dying man," whispered a gnarled scarred town watchman.

Darus hailed the bartender who after a moment's reluctance shuffled over.

"I'll have a pint of your best drink good sir," said Darus still grinning.

The man moved to the back room and returned with great wooden mug.

"So what's this for?" asked the man distractedly his eyes trained on the large inn door. Darus slid over several silver coins and replied,

"Celebration."

"For what?" asked the man bewildered.

"For a job well done."

--

"The gem belonged to a seventeen year old girl?" asked Mayor Ebonlocke in disbelief.

Darus nodded grimly, "The bastard had me convinced she was a succubus in disguise. I probably would have gutted the poor thing if Theocritus hadn't arrived in the nick of time."

"Theocritus? The Azora Tower Mage?"

"The one and only."

"The poison gem was his idea I assume?"

"Yes and he payed me well to deliver it. Though for the life of me I haven't been able to figure what a mage of Azora is doing with a gem that kills anyone who touches it…"

Ebonlocke gave a wry smile, "Have you been working for the Sanctum long now?"

"I've done a few jobs for them and they certainly pay well."

"I suppose strange times call for strange bedmates," he cleared his throat and continued, "And speaking of strange times there have been a number of odd occurrences in Raven Hill. Would you mind checking it out? I have coin to give."

Darus shook his head, "This was nothing but a courtesy call Ello. A heads up to my old friend not to worry about the happenings in Khazharan."

"Still…"

Darus held up his hand, "My business is in Elwynn."

The mayor leaned back with a sigh and rubbed his eyes.

"It's not like the garrison here is doing much," reasoned Darus, "Why don't you send a few of them to check it out?"

"I would if there were any here."

"What do you mean?"

"The order came down a few days ago. There has been increased aggression by the native trolls against Stockcrown. Colonel Kurzen has requested more troops and the Stormwind nobility in all its eternal wisdom has decided to grant him these troops – by taking them away from Darkshire."

Darus opened his mouth but the Mayor ran over him.

"I mean Light! How am I supposed to look after the town when I spending all my time organizing the Night Watch? How am I supposed to raise taxes from people who spend all their time locked in doors for fear of their own shadows?"

He stopped suddenly. Leaning forward he murmured with a tone of defeat," You don't really care about this at all do you?"

Darus leaned forward opened his mouth, still thick with the smell of spirits from the former night, and whispered, "No."

And with that mercenary stood up and walked away.

* * *

_A/N:_ _Aklis review voiced nearly exactly what I had been feeling. So I'm going back and doing some significant work over the story. This early in the day I am more concerned with getting the story up and running again so much of the work will be about getting as much of the redone story up and running. Then I will go back over it and improve the general quality as much as possible. Reviews in the form of criticism or appreciation are always welcome._


	2. Chapter 2

**Day Four**

**I do not own Warcraft**

* * *

He rode at a steady but easy pace down the dirt trodden path. It had taken a day longer then it might have, but Daunter was tired and Elwynn's bright and fair terrain was a happy contrast to the gloomy darkness that was fast overtaking Duskwood.

Then he saw it. A small stone tower whose glass windows just peaked over the forest roof. The Tower of Azora.

As he rode into the view tower a small woman hurried out to greet him, brushing her hands across her blue colored apron as she ran.

"Welcome Master Darus," squeaked the gnomish woman as Darus dismounted.

A second gnome appeared as if out of thin air to grasp the horses reigns. Well he tried in any case. Daunter, uncomfortable with a touch that wasn't Darus, neighed and lifted his head high carry the gnome off his feet. The green bearded man scowled as he swung several inches from the ground unwilling to relinquish his hold.

"O Barret let it go," scolded the gnome woman placing her hands on her hips.

"No! It's my job to stable the horses. I won't let a little height advantage let the animal get the best of me!"

Darus watched the comical sight with impatience.

"Daunter, obey," he snapped.

The horse lowered his head glaring daggers at Darus. The horse followed holding his head as high as he though possible trying to retain as much dignity as possible.

"Theocritus is on the top floor deary," informed the gnome woman as she led Darus into the tower.

"Thank you Dolly," replied Darus allowing himself a small smile for the gnome woman. After all he was about to be paid for the second time in four days.

"Well then be off with you," said the woman turning her back on him and grabbing a mop.

Darus smile widened slightly. That's what was so good about the pink haired gnome woman. She understood him. Any other person would have chatted him up. Asked how his trip was. Ask him how the job went. But not Dolly.

Darus began to ascend the wooden steps. His eyes glancing over the numerous gnomes going about their daily duties such as dusting bookcases, washing their master's prestigious wardrobe or fighting down the occasional rebellious broomstick.

Arriving at the top floor he spotted the old mage staring intently at a shiny blue glyph.

Darus coughed heavily as he approached knocking the man out of his stupor.

"Ah Darus," spoke the mage sheepishly; "You startled me."

"The deed is done," said Darus brusquely, "The wizard is dead."

"Damn good job Darus," the mage exclaimed, "You've saved a young woman's life by doing this."

Darus scowled. It had turned out that the "owner" the wizard had referred to had been a seventeen year old girl by the name of Alicia Coopers. The woman he would have had Darus slaughter in cold blood for the gem. He had told him she was a cruel spirit in disguise. Theocritus had arrived just in time to inform him otherwise. Then he had hired Darus to kill the wizard.

Mind you he would have probably done it anyways. Not for the sake of the girl but because he hated being lied to. But then again who was he to turn down coin for a job he intended to do anyways?

"Just give me the money so I can be on my way Theo," replied Darus gruffly.

"Ah Darus modest as always I see," said Theocritus looking down and patting his patting his robes. "I should have your money right here…"

After several moments he looked back up apologetically, "Must be in my other robes."

Dolly's exasperated voice floated up from the floor below, ""Its on the desk next you Master."

Theocritus plate white cheeks reddened slightly as he picked up the pouch, "Ah, so it is."

"Truly though, you did well," reiterated the mage as he handed the pouch over, "Myself and the Stormwind Sanctum owe you thanks."

"Why does the Sanctum owe me thanks?" asked Darus as he grabbed the coin pouch.

"The man was a rogue caster."

Darus glared at him, "Somehow you failed to mention that before."

"Are you sure I didn't? I could have sworn I did. Besides it's not like we could order the some of the Stormwind Guard to take care of him. You see,"

He took a deep breathe and Darus cursed. He was about to explain himself! Why must they always explain themselves?

"We've have never had the popularity the Church had. People just don't trust us. It didn't matter when the spires of Dalaran stood strong but with the Mage State's fall….," he gave a troubled frown, "We've been out of place. We're working hard to gain the common folks trust and while I think we are making headway we're still a far cry off. The last thing we need is tales of a mad evil wizard haunting the old tower of the very man who let the orc into the world."

He blinked and looked around the room, "Darus? Darus? Where did you go?"

--

Darus mounted on Daunter rode out in front of the tower. Dolly stood there waiting for him.

"Theo is going to be leaving for the Redridge Mountain soon. If you want to get in touch with him you'll have to wait several weeks or make the trip to see him yourself."

Darus gave a coarse laugh, "I don't think I'll be needing to talk to that old stick anytime soon."

Dolly gave a mysterious smile and smacked Daunter's flank. With a leap the horse burst into a gallop down the road.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," she whispered before walking back inside.

--

Darus leaned against the thick oak tree with a sigh as he stated up into the starry night sky. The following noon would see him in Goldshire and some rest and relaxation.

He reached down to his belt and drew forth the pouch Theocritus had given him. That money belonged in one of his numerous hidden pockets, not hanging on his belt, easy bait for a nimble thief.

He opened the pouch and poured out its contents. Then he finally understood Dolly's comment. The bastard had stiffed him a third of his reward.

"Son of a bitc-!"

* * *

_A/N: Hope you enjoyed this second chapter. I apologize for the shortness of it but I didn't feel it fit well with the following sequence. The following chapter will finally get you unto Plot Road. This chapter I believe will be far more enjoyable that the last chapter three and takes the story in an incredibly different direction. Reviews in the form of c__riticism_ _and apreciation is more_ _then welcome._


	3. Chapter 3

****

Day Five

**I do not own Warcaft**

* * *

Darus awoke to the sound of silent foot steps and hushed voices.

"He's around here somewhere," hissed one soft and cultured voice.

"Are you sure?" asked a second whose was far rougher and deep.

"The crystal doesn't lie. He's here, trust me."

Darus opened his eyes, his hands already instinctively clasped over the pommel of his weapons.

"I can't see anything in this darkness," growled a third voice.

"Why can't we have torches again?" questioned yet another.

"You heard what happened to Nare and Knot," whispered the first voice. "The Swordsworn bitch killed both of them before they even saw it coming. We're dealing with an old Swordsworn master. Surprise must be our friend and darkness our ally."

Darus stood frozen in shock.

"Who are these Swordsworn anyways," asked the deep voiced man.

"A band of mercenaries from the Third Great War. They were supposed to be the best of the best but the broke apart after-" started Growl but was interrupted by a coarse command.

"Silence ye fools," ordered the voice, the thick accent revealing it to be of dwarfish nature.

The shuffling of feet continued. How could they –whoever they were- possibly have known he was there? Darus's eyes flickered over the crystal blue stone set in the center pommel of his sword. It was enchanted to negate all forms of magic including scrying. And as for his history with the Swordsworn…

He had no time to dwell on it. By the sound of those voices they were getting closer by the second. He ordered Daunter to remain where he was. Drawing his twin weapons. One a fine crystal encrusted human sword, the second a beautiful elven short blade that curved ever so slightly at the tip.

With the intent of death clear in his eyes he slipped away into the darkness of the night. Let the games begin.

--

Aron Stilblade cursed for nearly the tenth time that night. It was all well and good for the

hunter and the mage but the rest of them were blind in the darkness of this moonless night. As the only self-respecting assassin among the lot of them he didn't warrant the muffling spell that guarded they're trek through the trees. So not only could he barely see but he had to remain quiet enough to not be detected. And kill one of Stormwind's most famous mercenary. If his employer wasn't paying as much as much as-

He looked down at curved sword sticking out of his chest. He would have screamed but for the gauntleted hand clasped around his mouth.

--

Darus slowly lowered the man into the grass. The elven short blade glowed lightly in reaction to the blood coursing down it. He quickly smothered the glow by re-sheathing it. The fact that he had been able to hear the group but not this man told him that they were using some sort of mute spell that made their noise acceptable. His sword negation magic canceled out the spell but he was forced to rely on the blood thirsty elven blade to seek out the other hidden foes. This was the last one.

All that remained now were those under the protection of the muting spell. A small part of Darus was enjoying this and another small part of him felt relief. The knowledge that all of this could be the end was strangely gratifying.

He stalked through the trees moving from one hulking trunk to the other. Within moments he saw them. There were five of them, as he had suspected. One was dressed in a dark blue robe clutching a staff of oakwood, his eyes glinting a fierce blue. He was most obviously a mage. Three other were dressed in brown leather armor with knives and swords resting easily on their hips. The fifth –the dwarf- wore black leather armor with chain mail. Strange green goggles covered his eyes and a short stocky gun was clasped expertly in his hands.  
Comparing the deliberate steps of the sword wielders to the relatively careless steps of the rifle bearer and the mage he surmised that the dwarf's goggles and the mages glowing eyes allowed them to see in the dark.

They would be the first to die he decided. It would be a bit difficult but if he could circle around them he would be able to…was that barrel pointed towards him?

The left side of the tree he hid behind blew to pieces. The dwarf's weapon smoked heavily.

"Damnit!" he roared reloading the weapon, "He's over in the trees!"

Darus tossed himself unto the ground as the tree nearby burst into flames revealing him to the three sword wielding assassins. With speed born on years of practice he leaped to his feet and did the exact opposite of what they expected him to do. He ran right towards them. The first attacker barely had time to be surprised as the he barreled from the fiery tree line right towards him. Barely had a moment to register the red blade that tore out his throat as Darus catapulted past him. The other two swordsmen refused to halt they're charge and the three combatants collided together. Slashing with his blade furiously Darus blocked his assailants blow. With a quick upper cut he sliced up and through the armor covering the second's chest making him howl in pain. The screaming man backed away his hands over his wound. Darus refused to let him get away and drew closer. As long as they were locked together the gunmen and mage wouldn't fire for risk of killing their own. The elven blade was glowing maliciously now as it basked in the blood of others. The third swordsmen pressed forward and thrusted his blade at Darus's abdomen. It was a risky move the close quarters leaving him open to retaliation but if the blow landed it would gut Darus. Unable to dodge the blow he deflected it with his blade, making no noise as the weapon bit into his hip. The man face lit in horror and Darus's sword plunged into his chest. With a vicious kick launched the man forward –Darus sword still deep in his chest- into the arcane bolt speeding toward him. The man's back broke with a snapped as he collided with the magical blast.

Realizing his enemy's willingness to sacrifice their own he lashed out furiously at the wounded man. He's usefulness had run out. The man, bleeding profusely, barely managed to lift his blade and he was felled in one swipe. Darus allowed the force of the swipe to carry the blade far to the right and then sent it spinning straight toward the rifleman. The wicked blade bit deep and sliced cleanly through his mail and into his chest killing him instantly. Now using the force of the throw he spun around to face the mage. The man had abandoned his staff and his hands were cupped around a burning fireball.

Darus cracked a cold smile.

What is he smiling about, wondered the mage, just before his body burst into flames.

From the blackness behind the burning mage stepped a figure wreathed is red robes. Stepping indifferently past the man's form, which was now flailing wildly on the ground, the figure drew back his hood revealing silver crystalline eyes, long pointed ears and a mat of wild golden hair.

"I see the Reaver has not lost his touch," murmured the elven sorcerer coolly.

"You know I hate that name Kantoris," growled Darus as he limped forward and withdrew his sword from the assassin's corpse.

"We cannot choose our titles Reaver."  
"But we can choose whether or not to suffer the company of those who would call us by them."  
"Very well Darus," conceded the elf.

"What are you doing here Sunbane?" asked Darus referring to the elves surname.

"Looking for you."

"Why?"

"You're not the first," the elves indifference faltered and guilt tinged with sadness crept through his voice.

"What do you mean" asked Darus though he had a good idea of the answer.

"Leeya, Rhiana, Tyson, Bayren, Ash and Dana."

"Were attacked?"  
"Are left."

Darus was silent for a moment and turned away from the elf, "Are you telling me that over two thirds of the Swordsworn are dead Kantoris?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you."

"All of them killed by assassins?"  
"Every one of them."

"Who hired them?" asked Darus his voice subdued.  
The elf shook his head, "I don't know."

Darus turned to face the elf his face masked and unreadable, "What do you want Kantoris?"

He asked knowing the answer. Yet he asked anyways because the fear of that answer was greater then anything he had felt during the battle with the assassins.

The elf walked forward and placed his hand bracingly on Darus shoulder, "Come back," he said simply.

Darus pushed the hand harshly off his shoulder.

"No."

"What!?" exclaimed the elf shock.

"You heard me," said Darus.

"They will kill you!"

Darus shrugged as if it was little concern. In fact it wasn't.

"You want them to kill you?"

Darus's lack of response was all the answer the elf needed.

"You can't possibly think this is what she would want? That Amra-"

Darus whirled around and shoved his face into the elves face.

"You will never mention her name again," he ordered through clenched teeth.

Kanotris refused to be cowed, "You made me swear Darus. You told me, you said, take care of them Kantoris. You made me swear an oath."

"Seems to me like you've already failed Kanotris," sneered Darus.

The elf flinched as if punched.

"It's what she would want," the elf murmured, "It's what she would want."

Darus stood stone still.

"I will come."  
The elf stared at him, "Just like that?"  
"It's what she would want."

He limped forward to retrieve his war blade.

"And Kanotris," he called back, "I mean it. Mention her name again and I will kill you myself."  
The elf nodded accepting the threat. He knew the human meant it.

Darus found the patch where the dwarf's body had fallen. The blade was there glowing a dull red. But the dwarf was gone.

* * *

_A/N: I will need to edit this chapter heavily but it is very late here and I am tired. I would have this chapter up earlier yesterday but I got real sick and couldn't finish it until tonight. Reviews in the form of appreciation or criticism are more then appreciated especially for this chapter. Beyond some editing tomorrow the reworking is now complete._


	4. Chapter 4

**Night of Day Five**

**I do not own Warcraft**

* * *

A small figure stepped through the portal and into the thin stone room

A small figure stepped through the portal and into the thin stone room. He was hunched and pale making his small form even less imposing and he sported an ugly wound in his side.

"I take it things did not go as planned," whispered a feminine voice.

The dwarf didn't reply and shambled over to the nearby wooden drawers and began desperately shifting through the vials on the shelf.

"Which blade did he strike you with?"

"The elven one," croaked the dwarf hoarsely.

The heavily cloaked woman nodded sagely, "The Sin'rala. Bloodseeker in human tongue. It was created during the Scourge invasion of Quel'thalas. A foul blade forged in a foul time."

"Where are the potions?" panted the dwarf.

The woman smiled and nodded her head at the set of shelves on the opposite side of the room.

"I wonder how our good mercenary came upon it."

The dwarf thrust aside the glass vials searching for the potion. Several of them fell and crashed to the floor and the woman clicked her tongue. The dwarf ignored her and picked up a bottle with red glowing liquid inside. Popping the top he slipped to the ground downing its contents greedily.

"Truly a foul blade," she repeated with a smile. The dwarf wiped his bloody hand across his lips some of his color returning.

"There was an elf there," he reported his voice still weak.

The woman shrugged, "That would Kantoris. He took control of the Swordsworn when Darus left."

"Weren't those Defias fellows supposed to deal with him?" asked the dwarf getting to his feet.

"They underestimated him," she said smirking, "Just like you."

The dwarf accepted the jibe and got to his feet, ""Now what?"

"We wait. All is going according to the Masters plan. The Swordsworn will gather together and spare us the trouble of hunting them down. As soon as he gives the order we will attack."

"How will we know where they are in the first place?" questioned the dwarf, "These people aren't fool. It is unlikely they will stay together for long. How do we know where they will gather?"

"Because my good dwarf," the woman's smile was all teeth, "The Swordsworn have a traitor in their midst."

* * *

_A/N: Been so busy with others stuff that haven't had time to update. Should have some more time when things cool down before school starts up. Reviews in the form of critism or apreciation is more then welcome._


	5. Chapter 5

**

* * *

****Chapter Five**

**I do not own Warcraft**

* * *

Stormwind City. Rebuilt after its savage destruction at the hands of the Old Horde it is a testament to humanities will and determination. Home to the last remaining Mage Sanctum in the Eastern Kingdoms, as well as the headquarters of the infamous S: 17, and the mighty Stormind Keep. The city was truly the heart of the southern lands.

It was here that Kantoris and Astevus found themselves two days after the attack in Elwynn Forest.

"It is…busier… then I remembered," murmured Kantoris as he attempted to avoid the stampeding flocks of citizens milling about the Trade Quarter.

Darus reply was only a grunt and not much of one at that.

Using Darus hulking mass as a shield the thin elf trotted behind the human as he wove through the cluttered streets with a practiced stride. In mere moments they arrived at their destination.

The Pig and Whistle Tavern in Old Town.

"They are all here?" asked Darus.

Kantoris shook his head, "No, they are with Rhiana at one of the safe houses. Bayren is here to lead us to them."

Darus nodded. Bayren Ironbeard was one of the elder members of the Swordsworn and had been with them since the beginning. He was not surprised in the least that he was one of the survivors.

Considering the dwarves drinking habit he was also not surprised that he had chosen the Pig and Whistle as their meeting point.

"What a dreadful place," remarked Kantoris. Darus shrugged.

Sure, the sweat and alcohol soaked exterior was a bit of a deterrent, as were the two unconscious drunks dozing outside of it, and the suspiciously man shaped hole in the wall of the building but all in all it seemed a well enough place.

"Let's get this over with," growled Darus walking inside.

The elf, after what he felt was an appropriate amount of prideful delay, followed.

The inside was not much more inviting. Cracked tables and chairs were strewn across the floor as evidence of a recent bar fight. Half a dozen men rested in a pile, beaten senseless on the floor.

Bayren with tankard of ale in both hands sat atop said pile.

"And that's why you never insult a dwarves mum!" he yelled taking a sloppy drink from one of the tankards.

It seemed the old dwarf hadn't changed at all since he had last seen him, thought Darus.

Then he spotted them. His one good eye grew wide.

"By Moradin…Darus is that you lad?" gasped the dwarf.

"Aye Bayren it's me."

"Bless my beard. When the elf said he had a surprise for us I never imagined id be you."

The dwarf waddled over to Darus and then gripped him tightlyin a hug.

"Is so good to have ye back lady!" he nearly cried.

"Bayren, control yourself," said Darus sternly.

The dwarf released him wiping away tears, though if they were from the multiple bruises on his face, the drink or Darus arrival that was causing them was unclear.

The few conscious tavern goers left in the common room were now transfixed on the trio. Kantoris cleared his throat.

"Do you have somewhere more private where we can talk?" he asked.

"Aye I've gots a room upstairs," said the dwarf motioning toward the rickety ramp that led to the second level of the tavern.

Together –with the occasional helping hand for the tipsy dwarf- they scaled the stairs to the room. Stepping inside Darus closed the door. The dwarf opened his mouth but the elf shushed him. Closing his eyes, his hands glowed violet. After a moment the glow disappeared and the elf opened his eyes, "We may speak freely now."

"Alright Beyran," began Darus immediately. "Where are the others?"

The dwarf wagged his fingers, "Not so fast. You've got some explaining to do lad."

Darus gave the dwarf a hard look, "I don't need to explain anything. I left and now I'm back to pull you lot out of this Light forsaken mess."

The dwarf shook his head, "That it eh? What about how you been doing all these years? What about how we been doing all these years?"  
Darus frowned, "I hardly think this is the time to exchange pleasantries Beyran."

The dwarf opened his mouthagain but Kantoris cut in.

"Now is not the time for this Bayren. Please."

The dwarf glared at Darus with his one good eye. Darus folded his arm aloof.

The dwarf nodded, "Sort our priorities eh? Very well. Truth be told I don't have a clue where the others are."

"What do mean?" demanded Darus.

"I knew where the were but I doubt they're still there. I slipped away just as those red bandana buggers began attacking the village. I've no doubt they got out of dere alive but I haven't the faintest clue as to where they've gone since."

Darus face grew stonier. After a moment of silence he asked, "Are you saying they could be anywhere in Azeroth by now?"

The dwarf shrugged, "In short. Aye."

Darus cursed under his breath but Kantoris held out his hand.

"This is not nearly as bad as you think. Doubtless Rhiana is counting on Bayren finding us. If that is the case then she has simply gone to the nearest safe place she knows of. The men in red bandanas," he turned to the dwarf. "They weren't aiming for us specifically were they?"

"Naw. They wanted the town. That attack was just a spot of cursed luck."

Kantoris nodded as if confirming something, "If that's the case then she would have just headed for-"

It was at that moment that the room exploded.

* * *

_A/N: Messing with the title a little bit. Mostly stuff you -if there are any of you- probaly don't care jack about but get on my nerves. We are right on track toward the crux of the story now. To be perfectly honest I've been thinking up nearly all of this on the fly with my general goals kept in mind. That being said I think it will only get better from here on out. Reviews in the form of apreciation or criticism are more then apreciated._


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**I do not own Warcraft**

* * *

"Aw shit," cursed Beyran as smoked rushed into the room from the open door. Four men in leather armor burst into the room.

"Grab the elf!" one of them shouted.

"Ai! I don't think so!" yelled the dwarf, scrambling to his feet.

He collapsed as one of the men kicked him in the face. Then the man collapsed on the dwarf as Darus blade plunged deep into his chest.

"Take care of him!" yelled the apparent leader of the group as he dragged the unconscious elf out the door.

The two attackers squared off against Darus. Each one wielded twin thick fighting knives while Darus was restricted to just his short blade; his long sword useless in such close quarters.

The three combatants danced the dance of death. Darus blade glowed a brilliant red as blood from its first victim ran down its tip. Their blades flashed repeatedly smashing into one another for only a half-breath before they skipped away and shot forward again. In moments all three were covered in minor cuts and gashes. Darus didn't even flinch as the knives cut against his flesh and simply used the time to strike blows of his own.

"Take that ye bastard!" roared Beyran as he cracked one of them over the head with a glass bottle.

Darus had only enough time to shoot the dwarf a look of pure loathing before he collapsed unconscious to the ground.

"Sorry bout that lad!" called out the dwarf cringing slightly as he blinked rapidly.

"You're going to be ever sorrier when you're dead," snickered one of the knife wielders. Seeing the dwarf unarmed he moved in for the kill.

"Eh, is that so?" asked the dwarf as he let out a lightning fast jab that decked the man instantly.

The other man lashed out with his blade but Beyran deftly dodged the blow, grabbed his extending arm, breaking it and throwing him aside.

"Never too drunk to kick human ass," he chuckled before nearly tripping over himself. It was only then that he noticed the dagger sticking in his side.

"Damnit," he grumbled pulling the dagger out of his side, "This'll hurt in the mornin."

Blood trickled down from the wound and all over his brown croc skin armor. Fumbling for a bandage he managed to temporarily staunch the wound.

Moving over to Darus he gave his several light slaps on the cheek.

"Lad wake up, they've taken the elf!"

Darus response was a punch in the face.

"Darus it's me!" cried the dwarf falling back.

"I know," the human replied tonelessly as he rose, rubbing his head.

Beyran glared at him for a moment but then gave a rough laugh.

"Hurry lad," he said grabbing Darus forearm and helping him to his feet, "He can't have gotten far with him!"

"About as far as the steps outside actually," murmured Kantoris as he stepped inside.

The dwarf gave a relieved sigh, "Glad to see yer okay!"

"In a matter of speaking," replied Kantoris moving aside. That was when Beyran finally saw the crossbow pointed at the elves back. And the dozen heavily armed Stormwind guards outside.

"You're all under arrest," declared the guardsmen with the crossbow.

The dwarf gave a sigh as the guards swarmed into the room and shackled him.

"Aw shit."

--

"This is not good," muttered Kantoris as he glared moodily at the magic muting runes on his shackles.

"You think?" asked Beyran sarcastically.

Darus remained silent as he stared silently out of the iron bars of their prison cell.

The stone ground was cold but not unbearably so. The size of the room was more an issue the three of them were literally forced to rub shoulders. The guard has said they would have there chance to plead their innocence soon –in other words be interrogated- but hours had past and no one had arrived.

At least Daunter is safe in the prison stables, mused Darus.

"So?" asked the dwarf turning to Darus, "How are we getting out?"

"We wait," he said simply never taken his eyes of the iron bars.

"We've been waitin for hours," complained the dwarf crossing his arms. "I am sick of waitin!"

"Careful Beyran" taunted Kantoris, "You're becoming impatient as a human."

"Why you little-" began Beyran.

"Ahemm," cough a high nasally voice.

The elf and the dwarf both started looking for the source of the voice.

"Downn eeer," sneered the voice.

Then they saw it. A black skinned imp dancing in place on the floor.

"Who are you?" demanded Kantoris.

"I'mm Stixx," gurgled the imp, "I'm eeer to gett you outt."

"Who sent you?" asked Darus.

"Mashter Ash of courshe. Whenn my greatt mashter chose to leave the vicinity of Moonbrookk he summoned me to come find you and leadd you to im."

"Ash has a Voidwalker familiar," noted Kantoris suspiciously.

"I amm tempporrary elp."

"I see," said Kantoris clearly unconvinced.

"Can you get us out of here?" inquired Darus calmly.

"Of coursh," said the imp.

With a snap of his fingers he disappeared. Several seconds later he reappeared outside of the cell a ring of keys in his hands. He ran his bony hand over the set and then chose a thick brass key. Grabbing the bars he quickly climbed up to the keyhole. Holding himself upright by wrapping his thin legs around the bar, he hoisted up the key ring with both hands, picked out the brass key and inserted into the keyhole. With a satisfying click the door swung open silently on well oiled hinges.

"Not bad," muttered Bayren underneath his thick brown beard.

Darus stepped outside and took a deep breath. Kantoris blinked and the next second the imp sat squirming in Darus grip.

"How did you find us," he demanded.

"I…I…followwed you…fwom the inn," squeaked the imp.

"How did you find us in the first place?"

"Mashter sed you…you would bee at the pig and whistle inn."

Darus stared at the imp for a few excruciating seconds, his grip only tightening. Just as the imp was convinced he was breathing his last breaths Darus released him. Coughing Stixx, rubbed his throat and gibbered rapidly in demonic.

"Follow me," ordered Darus, "We're breaking out."

* * *

_A/N: __I will be going back over this chapter and others to purge it of some of the more visible and embarrassing mistakes. I need to break this three in the morning updating habbit. These improvements will also include mistakes such as the lack of physical description for Beyran and other issues of the similar sort. From there we will see what happens. Reviews in the form of criticism or appreciation (or both) are more then welcome._


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